


Gravitas

by invective



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Female Eren Yeager, Genderswap, Manga Spoilers, Multi, is really a mix of manga and anime, not really shippy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invective/pseuds/invective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's the fiercest girl in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. crushed

**Author's Note:**

> While for the most part derived from the manga, this fic takes place in a mixture of both manga and anime verses. I will be using the dub's terms, such as "omni-directional maneuver gear" and "Scouting Regiment" as opposed to more commonly preferred terms like "3DMG" and "Survey Corps" respectively, as the dub is what I will be using for reference if I don't have access to the manga at the time. The story will extend past Annie's capture, and as such will then diverge into strongly manga territory. Spoilers are a given, and consider this and the tags above fair warning. Following the manga also means that one should expect hiatuses once the fic gets caught up, simply because I want to be as canon as possible with this and so I have to give the story time to finish arcs before I begin writing adaptations of them. I do hope, however, to fill these vacancies with one-shots and asides.

She wonders if she should tell her father about the nightmares. The nightmares, about Titans and soldiers and death and dolls, plaguing her slumber for months now, and getting increasingly worse every day. While her father isn’t _that_ kind of doctor, she’s ready to do anything to be rid of her ailment.

Blood is a constant in these dreams. Splashed on trees, on grass, streaked across Titans and corpses alike, the stuff is everywhere. The dolls are even worse though, an assortment of seemingly innocent children’s toys that scare her the most. Lying atop smooth silk, sinister shadows mark unnatural poses, surrounded by the stench of death and pain and –

Bodies replace them, distinctly human, distinctly mangled. It at first took her a moment to realize the bodies are mirroring the dolls, but she’s seen the poses so often that she no longer considers the thought. The jackets and straps of the military are all too familiar, and articles of clothing – a scarf, a cravat – likening the cadavers further to the toys are caked with blood.

Corpses have never been strangers to her, but the horror and desolation from the sight weighs heavy on her tiny heart and constricts her lungs like none would ever believe, like she’s drowning in nothing but the hurt and loss and overwhelming grief, and it consumes her.

There’s _so much pain._

The only solace she finds is a young girl that hovers above her and whispers “See you later, Eren.”

Yes, she should tell her father.

“Eren,” her sister calls, and her eyes fly open. The exasperated tone she uses indicates that she’s been calling for her for quite some time now. “Let’s get home before it gets dark.”

Eren nods, sitting up. Her neck aches from sleeping on the hard ground, her slump against the tree terrorizing her back throughout her nap. The firewood strapped to her back creaks in protest as she rises, and she moves swiftly to match her sister’s gait.

“Mikasa,” says Eren absently, “your hair’s gotten a lot longer, hasn’t it?” She cracks her neck, scowling at the sting the action produces.

Her sister scoffs, moving a few paces forward. “What kind of question is that? What were you even thinking about when you woke up?”

“Well, see,” Eren begins, shuffling forward, “I had this mighty long dream.” Her mind tries to recall it, to describe it to Mikasa, because if there’s anyone who should know about it before her father, it’s her sister, but the memories have vanished. “I… I don’t really remember it all that well.”

Mikasa hums, and then turns to face her. Eren’s brows furrow at the surprise that etches across the other’s face, but before she can ask what for, Mikasa asks, “Eren? Are you all right? Why are you crying?”

The thing is – she’s not. At least, she believes that she’s not, until she lifts a hand to her face and touches a tear as it drips down her cheek. Eren flinches in shock, eyes flickering from Mikasa’s concerned face to her finger. “I… I don’t…”

Her cheeks flame, and she turns away to wipe the rest of her tears away. More don’t come, and so it’s safe to say she’s finished with her wailing, as concealed (even to her) that it might’ve been.

Mikasa still looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t, and so they begin the journey home.

It’s the year 845, and the Walls have not fallen.

\--  
Sister and sister filter in with the trickle of people, and Eren finds herself wiping stray moisture from her eyes. Her nose is red, and while she dries her hands on her skirt, evidence of her crying is still there. Eren willfully ignores all of Mikasa’s attempts to identify what made her cry, not quite knowing even herself, but it’s obvious that pride is what is causes her to clamp down and quiet for the duration of their trek.

She only opens her mouth once they pass the gates, where the people have sufficiently dispersed and Eren has enough space to whisper to Mikasa without being overheard. “You will speak a word of this to no one,” snarls Eren, whose fists grip the straps of her harness tightly. Her face is pinched in anger, though Mikasa doesn’t seem at all bothered by her expression.

“Of course,” Mikasa responds. She casts a sidelong glance at her, dark locks swishing with the movement. “But you should probably have your dad check that out, right?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course not!” Eren protests. She shoots her sister a scathing look, mumbling, “Like hell I’d ever tell him about _that_.” She believes the conversation settled there, but the stench of alcohol comes closer all too abruptly, followed by the gruff voice of a familiar soldier.

Hannes the Garrison soldier stoops down to reach the ten year-old’s level, a wry grin stretched across his face. “What have you been crying about, Eren? Did Mikasa get mad at you for some reason?” He laughs uproariously, and Eren claps a hand over her nose, the overwhelming smell of beer coming off the man in waves. He’s not the only one drinking on the job, she realizes, as she peers around the corner.

The men supposed to be on duty with him are sitting on cardboard boxes, cheeks flushed drunkenly and each having their own bottle of alcohol all to themselves. Eren frowns and the leather straps of her harness crackle as her grip tightens in discontent. “Aren’t you… supposed to be working…?” She keeps her voice level, trying not to provoke the ire of men over twice her size. Eren has never strayed from picking fights, but these are soldiers, and the adults milling about would not doubt view an ensuing scuffle as a result of delinquency, despite the Yeager girl’s respectable parentage.

“Today we’re manning the gates,” Hannes replies, waving a hand. He’s not teetering over like some of his companions are, but there’s something off-kilter about his balance. He’s ready to tip over, and that’s what makes Eren’s temper flare the most. “We’re out here all day, hot sun, stuff like that. We get hungry, and, well, we get _thirsty_ too. Alcohol’s an available liquid, kid, so we drank it.”

“And how exactly do you expect to fight when we need you to? When the situation arises?” cries Eren, leaning forward earnestly.

The soldiers have the gall to stare at her blankly. “What situation?” asks Hannes after a brief pause.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” Eren yells, and it’s only now that Mikasa is more or less miffed by the exchange, although it’s hard to tell if her annoyance is directed at her sister or the soldiers she’s speaking to. “When ‘they’ get through the walls! That’s when we’d need you the most! But now you’re sitting around all drunk off your asses, and if the situation ever actually rises, we’re all screwed!”

“Eren, don’t shout. You’re making my head ring,” Hannes mumbles, hands rubbing his temples. Eren’s words draw a laugh from the soldiers, spiking her rage even further. Nothing makes a child angrier than the notion of adults not taking them seriously.

Another guard waves off her concerns, nudging her with the toe of his boot playfully. “They haven’t made so much as a dent in the walls in a hundred years, kid. But if they break through, you know, we’ll deal with it.”

She hardly thinks it to be so easy.

“We can’t let our guards down that easily, right?” she says. “My father says that’s dangerous.” Grisha Yeager is the smartest man she knows. His word is above all others, father or not. She gives them all a look, a plea to sober up and be decent at their jobs for at least once in their life.

Hannes’s eyes soften at the mention of her father. “I guess you’re right,” he acquiesces, “and I ain’t about to argue with a Yeager or her old man, but… Sweetie, when you get to become a soldier, you get to see all this stuff about the walls. How to maintain ‘em, all that stuff. This thing’s fifty meters tall. There’s no way that I can think of for the Titans to get around it.”

Eren blanches, and Hannes winces. Not the reaction he was hoping to elicit from her, obviously. “So you’re saying you’re not even prepped to fight them? That you wouldn’t know the first thing about how to take them down if they get through the Wall?” Hannes reaches out, seeking to pacify the girl before her shouting makes things any worse for his pounding head, but she steps back angrily. Her sister flashes a concerned look but doesn’t do anything to stop the following tirade. “What the hell are you calling yourselves the ‘Garrison Regiment’ for then, huh? You’ve got no right to bear the name, as if you’re all soldiers worthy of a fight against the Titans! You’d be better off named the ‘Wall-Building Squad!’”

The girl’s cheeks are ruddy from her outburst, her nose even redder than it was before from her crying. Her tiny frame trembles in rage, head shaking with disbelief. She’s placing her lives in the Garrison’s hands. The Military Police aren’t there to help her people when the Titans get through. The Scouting Regiment would only provide clean-up and backup to the Garrison Regiment. The soldiers before her were those entrusted to guard the people, but instead they guard their liquor more closely.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Hannes says, a hand coming to rest on the top of her head. She would customarily shake him off, grumbling something about not being a little kid, but his cheerful tone makes her freeze. “Sweetheart, if there’s a standing army…” His hand moves to her shoulder as he squats to be eye level. “…that means that things have all gone to hell. If there isn’t, if we’re all useless – and we are, thank God above – that means that humanity’s safe.”

That’s the most reasonable argument she’s heard all day, and while she’s tempted to strike back at one of Hannes’s friends trash-talking the Scouting Regiment, she knows she’s spent too much time talking, and Mikasa begins to tug her away by her sleeve.

It doesn’t stop the girl from having the last word.

“Even if we don’t leave the walls,” she says, and Mikasa grows more impatient by the second, “we’ve got food, and shelter, and safety. But that doesn’t make us any better than mere cattle.” Her quiet tone contrasts with the brief shouts she expelled earlier, and while that certainly won’t be the end of the conversation should she ever catch them slacking off again, she steers herself back home, shrugging her sister’s hand off of her arm.

\--

Mikasa does not say much when around other people. It’s something Eren has come to expect from her almost-blood sister, whom she has called her sister for only about a year, and known her just as long. She’ll never forget the circumstances in which they met, and she understands how such a situation would affect someone’s talkativeness. That’s all right, though. Eren does all the speaking for the both of them. But now, Eren can tell there’s something Mikasa wants to say, the Asian girl’s face folded in worry. Far be it from her to stop Mikasa from speaking her mind. “What?” Eren demands, not unkindly.

Her sister shakes her head, gaze trained on the ground yet still expertly maneuvering around the people in front of her. “It’s just that… Eren, you should give up on joining the Scouting Regiment.” She lifts her dark eyes to meet Eren’s gray gaze then, her own stare hard and stubborn.

“You too?” snarls Eren. “Even _you’re_ going to make fun of them?”

“It’s not making fun of them, Eren. It’s just that, if you get hurt because of joining – ”

A bell cuts the girl off, and Eren’s head snaps up at the noise. “That must be the Scouting Regiment! Let’s go see them!” All arguments are rebuttals are forgotten as she drags Mikasa behind her, moving back towards the gates and already finding clusters of people pressed to the sides of the street, almost as if watching a parade. Unable to get a better view, Eren climbs up on some wooden crates, leaving her sister at ground level before remembering her presence and offering a hand up to an adjacent stack. She hears the clop of the horses’ footsteps and gets on her tiptoes to greet her heroes with smiles and joy.

What passes through the gates isn’t worthy of the title of ‘heroes.’

The Regiment is broken, bloody, and battered. There are more bandaged appendages than people, the wounded and dead innumerable. It’s not something that Eren wants to think about when thinking of the Scouting Regiment, but the reality is clear in front of her eyes. For all her preaching about how the reality of the Titans invading is all too close, she has denied herself the reality of the Titans’ mortality. It’s clearer than ever, the guilt, the hurt, and the loss that encompasses the soldiers. A blond man catches her eye, sees her strained smile and casts his gaze downward to the mane of his horse. She frowns then. No one can face her – not the commander, not his second. Maybe she’s wrong to consider the Scouting Regiment the most powerful around. They hold little weight and are ridiculed as wastes of tax dollars, but they continue to fight for humanity and for the world outside the walls. Beside this, though, the adults do have a point.

Some try their best to look supportive – mostly the youth and children, Eren notices – but the older, working-class folk regard the soldiers with disgust and not the slightest bit of pity. As Eren scans the crowd gathered around, standing in their places simply because they don’t want to get trampled by the oncoming legion, she notes a few concerned adults as well, peering amongst the Scouting Regiment’s ranks. They’re searching, she realizes, for their sons, daughters, spouses, siblings. A few small children she notes peering up at the towering scouts are looking for parents as well.

Only one woman dares to approach them. Her small, bony frame is hunched, eyes darting around. She walks straight up the Commander – Eren doesn’t quite recall who it is (Shadis, perhaps?), the last change of hands too brief with the growing death rate of the Scouting Regiment – and asks for her son. “Excuse me,” whispers the old crone, hands folded in front of her chest in worry. She takes another long sweep over the remaining soldiers, as if she’s somehow missed whoever she was looking for. Eren finds herself tipping forward too, helping to look even though she’s not sure herself who the woman is looking for. “I don’t see my son – Moses,” the woman continues, sinking to her knees after another failed search. “Do you know what happened to him?”

The Commander blanches, then turns to his right. “This is Moses’s mother,” he murmurs to his second, who nods. “Bring it here.”

“It?” murmurs Eren to herself. It’s not the most suitable way to refer to a cadaver, definitely not at all respectful. The man’s not exactly living anymore, but she thinks he deserves the pronouns he was referred to with when he was still alive. But when her gaze follows the second, to a wagon near the blond man who acknowledged her, the small bundle retrieved is definitely not big enough to hold a corpse. A limb perhaps, but –

She gasps, as does the rest of the crowd.

It _is_ a limb.

An arm, to be exact, revealed as the lady unwraps the green cloth. The smell of rotting flesh hits everyone’s noses, and while scenes like this aren’t commonplace or rare, it never fails to make Eren flinch. She turns to Mikasa, only to find the other girl staring intently back at her. They both turn their attention back to the woman when she shrieks, staring down at her son’s arm with eyes wide.

It’s hard to hear Moses’s mother when she pipes up, her high voice cracking. Her gaze has lifted from Moses’s severed arm to Commander Shadis before her, his own eyes shadowed by his downturned head. “He contributed, didn’t he?” she asks. Shadis is startled out of his reverie, and he watches the woman, puzzled and shaking. “My son did something for humanity, didn’t he? Even if he didn’t do much, Moses helped humanity fight back, right?” Her pleas are marked with squeaks, and with each word Shadis flinches ever so slightly.  
Eren leans forward, her toes resting precariously on the edge of the top crate as Mikasa reaches out to grab the hem of her cardigan to keep her from tipping over as she tries to listen closer.

“Of course!” Shadis barks, and the woman nods, clutching the limb close to her chest. Eren wonders rather morbidly what she’s going to do with it – if she’s going to give her son a proper burial, and where she would hold it, considering it’s only just an arm.

Eren’s thoughts are halted suddenly, however, but Shadis, who speaks once more. “No, he didn’t!” The man, shoulders hunched and heaving, continues screaming. The other soldiers behind him – his officers – don’t even flinch as his voice rises and bounces off the walls and alleys of the area around. The people around them begin to break into hushed whispers, quieted as he continues. “Moses died without doing a single thing! Everyone here died in vain! We made absolutely no progress whatsoever! The expedition was a complete and total failure!”

Silence follows, painfully awkward, and it’s painfully evident that the Scouting Regiment hasn’t been so much as a thorn in the Titans’ sides. The quiet chatter only breaks out once again to fill the void the Commander’s words left. Eren casts a quick glance at Mikasa, scowling it at the ‘I-told-you-so’ stare she levels back. When she looks back up, the Scouting Regiment has already marched straight on, leaving Moses’s mother sitting in the dirt road alone, with only her son’s arm to comfort her.

“It’s a fucking shame,” the man in front of Eren says to his friend, not at all bothering to keep quiet. His voice doesn’t lift above the others, but he’s certainly the loudest one around the two girls. “Everyone that died on that expedition would still be alive if they just kept in the walls. Safe and sound.”

“No kidding,” responds the other man. “At this point, what are we even doing with the Scouts? Wasting tax dollars, that’s what. And to keep all of ‘em Titans happy and fed. We should just – ”

Whatever else he might’ve had to add was cut off abruptly by firewood smacking him in the back of the head. The man lets out an indignant yelp, whirling around to face the two girls behind him. Eren doesn’t at all regret her actions. That’s what he deserves for speaking ill of the men and women who go out to fight for humanity’s second chance. She’d hit him again in a heartbeat, and she’s about to until Mikasa forcibly grabs the back of her collar and yanks her straight off the boxes and into an alleyway. The two men jeer after them while Eren lets out a string of expletives, heels dragging on the floor.

“Hey, goddamnit, lemme go!” she shouts one last time, efforts to free herself futile. She leaves Mikasa’s grasp flying, and Eren gasps as she slams into the wall behind her, head cracking onto the stone. The firewood piled on her back goes flying, twigs and such scattered all across the dirt floor. Mikasa’s glare burns holes into her skull, and makes warmth flare in her cheeks. She lands on all fours, brown hair dangling in her face as she scowls. Her head snaps up to glare back at her sister, eyes blazing. “What the hell was _that_ , Mikasa? Now the firewood’s everywhere! Help me clean this up.”

“You were thinking about joining the Scouting Regiment before this. You… didn’t change your mind, did you?”

Upon receiving no answer, Mikasa stoops down to help her sister.

\--

Eren is the one who greets her family as she enters the modest home, announcing the sisters’ presence while Mikasa trails behind like a shadow.

“Welcome back,” Grisha Yeager says from his seat at the dining table. He’s organizing his medical equipment – he has an appointment in Wall Rose, if Eren isn’t mistaken. It’s about time for him to leave, and the sun is beginning to lower when Eren dumps her and Mikasa’s firewood into the container while the latter goes to wash her hands and aid their mother in preparing the food.

“You’re late,” Carla Yeager admonishes, throwing a lightly chastising look over her shoulder. She moves from her spot near the sink and bends over, seemingly peering at the collection of firewood the children have gathered. Eren can feel warmth pitching in her stomach. Her mother’s realized something, and she’s probably to get scolded for it. “Say… That’s a lot of firewood that you’ve got there, Eren? You gather that all by yourself?”

Eren swallows, nodding. Her gaze trains on the grainy wood beneath her feet, fingers slamming the cover of the trunk swiftly down. Before she can think to speak and follow up with her statement, fingers clamp quickly around her ear. She yelps, and her mother chuckles. “Your ears turn red when you lie,” says her mother. “Mikasa helped you, didn’t she? Really, Eren, Mikasa can’t carry all your weight forever. It’s your job as the older sister to be the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“Mikasa’s older than me by a month,” Eren protests, and earns a joking flick to the ear for her trouble.

The girls join Grisha at the table then, and while they would customarily be enjoying lunch, they would much rather see him off before waving their delicacies in his face while he has to haul himself over to the next wall. Eren engages in small talk with her father before he goes, as she always does, simply to speak to him before he leaves for another week. She’s grown used to the absence of her father, but that doesn’t mean she’s completely fine with him vanishing all the time. Carla squeezes in on the conversation as well, a jovial family moment before Mikasa interjects, speaking for the first time since she stepped over the threshold of the Yeager house.

“Eren wants to join the Scouts,” says Mikasa, and everyone freezes for a moment.

The quietness goes as quickly as it came, as Eren is quick to protest Mikasa’s revelation and Carla rushes over to her daughter and shakes her. “What are you even thinking, Eren? You know how dangerous it is outside there, and how many people have died part of the Scouts! Why in the world would you possibly want to go outside?” she demands, jerking her child, who struggles to free herself from the death grip.

“I want to see the world outside and not live like cattle! It’s all we are here, in the Walls. There’s got to be a world outside, a world from before the Titans, where humanity flourished before, and it’s a place that humanity deserves to live in again!”

Eren pauses, looking down as she straightens her ruffled attire. “And besides, someone’s got to pick up the slack and help out, or else everyone who fell would have died in vain.”

No one says anything, although it’s clear that Carla is merely gathering herself. The silence is broken by the sound of Grisha’s chair sliding back as the man rises, gathering his back and announcing his departure.

“Wait,” Carla protests, moving to grab her husband’s bicep. “Honey, please, talk some sense into Eren!”

Grisha shrugs off his wife’s concerns, turning in the doorway to give his family a sly grin. “If the girl’s got the mind to do it, there’s no stopping her. Besides,” he pauses, reaching into his collar to pull a golden key out, “when I get back, I’ll show you what’s in the basement.”

The basement is an enigma that’s plagued the girl since her early childhood, and she grins widely as she asks for confirmation. Up until then, she doubted that she’d ever find out what was in her father’s super-secret basement, to be kept hidden until the end of time.

The women move out to the porch to see the doctor off, and as soon as he’s out of sight, Carla’s smile drops from her face as she turns to Eren. “Sweetheart,” she says, a normally gentle hand pressing firmly down on her shoulder, “just give up on joining the Scouts. It’s never happening. Only an idiot would join the Regiment for some idealistic – ”

“An idiot?” Eren parrots back, incredulous and angry once more. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, those who would rather buy their safety and live like cattle are ten times worse!” She darts off into the alleyway, ignoring her mother’s call.

She weaves through the backstreets of Shiganshina, stopping only when she notices her sister joining her.

“Your mother told me to look out for – ”

“I know.”

The two sit in silence, resting on the crates in the open street where the Scouting Regiment passed through, postures mirroring each other as their backs hunch. The crowd has long since dispersed, so neither of them faces the possibility of encountering the men that Eren had assaulted. Eren opens her mouth to apologize – she never means to be mean to Mikasa, but the protectiveness of the other girl smothers her more than she’d like. But just as the noise is about to leap out of her throat, the sound of assault and battery reaches the both of them, followed by a couple of familiar voices.

It takes them both a second to realize the origins. “Armin,” the both say, and take off in a sprint towards the origin of the noise.

They find the bullies behind the blacksmith’s shop, where the sound of the man laboring away would customarily block any noise that would rouse the suspicion of any passers-by. With the blacksmith at lunch, however, they were in no such luck.

Eren’s encountered the same bullies before – quick to attack those not conforming to the norm, especially ‘heretics’ like Armin. Eren had never fit in with the crowd, and prior to the acquisition of Mikasa, who lived in the rural areas of Wall Maria prior to adoption, as a friend, it had only been Eren and Armin who stuck together. It was her duty to protect him, and, judging by the way he was slumped against the wall, he needed her help. She shoots forward, Mikasa close behind. Brows pulled together in fury, she watches the bullies catch sight of her and turn their attention to the newcomer. She doesn’t expect them to turn tail and run about a half a second later. But she’s not going to complain.

“Hah,” Eren snorts, hands on her hips as she skids to a stop and watches Armin’s assailants flee. “Took one look at me and just up and ran. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

She hears Armin say, “I don’t think that’s quite right…” and promptly ignores the words, instead leaning down to offer her hand. “You okay?” she asks, smiling down at him.

Armin stares at her hand for a moment before swatting it away and choosing to rise on his own. She shoots him a puzzled glance, but doesn’t verbalize her concerns. “What the hell was their problem?” Eren opts to say instead, turning to head towards the river. They used to skip pebbles on days like this, and it was a nice way to get Armin’s mind off of his injuries, however minor. She nudges him with her shoulder gently.

“Well, I was reading one of my grandfather’s books,” Armin begins, and continues talking as they walk. “I was by myself when I was doing it, but then they saw me, asked me what I was reading, and so I told them.” The subject matter of the books Armin often read weren’t exactly conservative by any means, and so Eren nods, encouraging her friend to go on. She walks on his right while Mikasa strolls to his left, framing him as they both simultaneously reach to brush off dirt and straw from his person. “As you can tell, they didn’t like it, and after we argued for a bit… I told them humanity needed to leave the Walls sometime, and that’s when they hit me. Called me a heretic.”

Having reached their destination, she plops down onto the yellowy grass, patting the spaces beside her and prompting her friends to follow her example. They do, and she leans back on her hands, nudging a shoe off and dipping a toe into the river. “Ugh,” grumbles Eren, “how come you get sneered at and called names for just talking about leaving?” Small, freshwater fish nibble at her feet, and she ignores the tickle in favor of conversation.

“Well,” Armin says, answering the rhetorical question, “it’s because we’ve lived in the walls for over a hundred years of complete peace. People are scared of inviting ‘them’ in.” His position differs from Eren, whose legs are splayed wide and her hands even farther as she relaxes. He’s curled up on himself instead, chin resting on his knees as his arms lock around his legs to bring them closer to his chest. “Besides, the government’s decreed any interest in the outside world as taboo.”

“The king’s a goddamn wuss, that’s the only reason.”

“Yeah,” agrees Armin, “but is that the only reason?”

“It’s our lives, our business – not theirs.”

“Not happening,” states Mikasa. “End of story. I’m not going to let you.”

Eren turns to face her, the movement of her foot leaving the water creating a splash that lightly wets the hem of Armin’s pants as well as Eren’s skirt. Her former apology is forgotten, instead replaced by annoyance and irritation. “Speaking of, what the hell, Mikasa, was up with telling my parents? I told you not to tell them!”

“I never promised to cooperate,” she responds, rolling her eyes.

Armin pipes up, brushing Eren’s shoulder gently. “How’d it go?”

“Mom didn’t like it. Duh. There wasn’t exactly cheers and applause.” Not that she was expecting any.

“Mm. I can imagine that…”

Eren’s head whips around. “Not you, too! C’mon, it’s our _dream_ – to go outside and see the world.”

Armin is quick to make amends, hands lifted in a pacifying gesture. “It’s really dangerous, Eren. But I can see where you’re coming from.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and carefully planning his words. It makes Eren scowl at the fact that he needs to watch what he says, but then it might be that he’s not quite sure how to articulate what he felt clearly. “I just wanna know what goes on in the heads of the conservatives, of those who want us to stay inside. The Walls have held for about a hundred years. But who says they’ll last forever?”

Almost as if on cue, the ground rumbles and shakes, throwing the children in the air before letting them drop painfully. Midair, Eren can see the flash of a golden lightning bolt striking the earth before Wall Maria against an orange sky. “What was that?” she gasps, and neither of her friends have an answer. “Was it an earthquake?”

It seems that the people around them have no idea either, but staring straight ahead, she sees a cluster of folks pointing at the Wall in fear, huddling together in their dread.

“Let’s go check it out.”

Armin speeds in front of them, only to stop abruptly and adopt the same expression as all of those nearby. Eren glances at their faces before moving to the Wall, and by that time, even Mikasa has frozen in horror.

They’re a sizable distance away, but the Titan that peers above the fifty meter high stone is enough to make everyone stop and stare. Eren can’t help but feel a chill crawl up her spine, tingling at the back of her neck. She’s never seen a Titan in real life, and she certainly hopes they don’t all look just like that – outrageously tall, lacking all flesh, and sporting a terrifying grin of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of teeth and staring down at humanity as if they were nothing more than a bunch of ants. It’s a miracle that any of the Scouts survive, if all of them were to look like that, ominous smoke billowing from behind.

“That Wall,” Armin murmurs, tone disbelieving, “is fi-fifty meters tall…”

“It’s one of them,” Eren whispers. “A Titan…”

All is quiet, and all is still.

The Titan begins to move, and then a foot comes crashing into the Wall.

Debris flies everywhere, and the mere sounds makes everyone slap a hand over their ears. The cacophony that was missing upon the beast’s first appearance now rises, a variety of screams, cries, and pleas filling the air. Chunks of the pierced Wall, varying in shape and size, rain down on Shiganshina, crushing man, animal, and house alike.  
Armin is the first of the three to react, grabbing his friends’ forearms and tugging them away. “Get the hell out of here, guys, or the Titans’ll come piling in one by one!” Mikasa casts a glance back at him, a certain panic replacing the original still-water calm. But Eren doesn’t. Eren instead moves to gawk at the direction of the debris.

“M-my house is over there,” says Eren. Her voice is soft, nothing like it’s boisterous and customary loudness. She then takes off, moving past the swarm of people heading in the opposite direction. Mikasa follows suit, ignoring Armin’s protests and matching her sister stride for stride.

It’s fear that propels them forward now – not of the Titans, but for Carla. She had been alone when the Titan struck, probably hadn’t even been outside to see the sight and have enough time to gather her wits and run to find her children. As her feet pound the ground, Eren can’t help but regret her parting words to her mother, and hope that they won’t be the last. She stumbles several times turning, but uses her fingers to propel her forward as she rounds corners, hunched over and off balance due to the nature of her movement. She curses the impracticality of her skirt, shortening her stride, and settles for bunching it up in her hands around mid-thigh as she continues to run. Several adults try to stop her and attempt to take her and Mikasa with their own children to safety, bless them, but none of them manage to be successful. They pass families crushed by stone, people crippled and left to die, but all they can focus on is Carla, because out of all the people here, Carla is the only one they would die for.

 _Everything’s got to be okay. When I get there, she’ll have gotten out, she’ll be looking for us, and when I turn this corner our house will be standing just where it was when we left it, and mom will come with us to escape, and Armin will meet us with his grandpa, and_ – Eren feels her feet begin to ache and her head begin to ring with prayers when she finally gets within fifteen meters of her house, only to have every word she’s directed toward God in the past five minutes chewed up and spat back into her face.

The Yeager house has been crushed, and Carla Yeager along with it.

“Mom!” Eren cries, dropping to her knees in front of her mother. While the woman is conscious, she clearly can’t move, trapped beneath the rubble and remains of their old house.

“Eren, is that you?” croaks Carla, and her hands reach out searchingly for her. Eren grabs her hand, holding it chose to her chest, affirming her presence before turning to Mikasa.

“She’s stuck! We have to get her out.” She lets go of her mother’s hand, beginning to search through the debris. She finds the base of the roof, wedging her hands beneath it and nods to Mikasa to do the same. “The pillar,” she grits out, and Mikasa is sure to press a foot against it too. On the count of three, the girls heave, but the attempt only makes Carla blanch and cry out, and a roar stops them dead in their tracks. A Titan looms in the distance, and Eren shouts, “C’mon, Mikasa! We’ve gotta do this fast!”

“The Titans…,” Carla whispers, her words breathy and quiet, “they’re in, aren’t they?” Her breaths are shallow, unable to take in too much air. Judging by the blood that begins to pool around her, Eren surmises that her lung is punctured as well as the damage caused to her lower body from being crushed. All the more reason to try harder, and so she counts from three again and lifts as best she can, with her small body straining hard and with her sister just as desperate.

“Eren, get Mikasa and run!” Carla cries.

Eren huffs, wiping the sweat from her brow, flashing her mother a look. “Yeah, I know, I wanna get out of here too, but you’re coming with us. We’re all gonna get out of here together!” Her final world is marked by yet another attempt to shift the roof, to no avail.

“My legs are crushed,” protests her mother, “so even if you get me out, I won’t be able to run, Eren. I’ll only slow you down.”

“That isn’t a problem, Mikasa and I’ll carry you!”

“Damn it, why can’t you just listen to your mother for once in your life? The least you could do is obey my last wish!”

A fist slams against the wood, splintering it and reddening Eren’s knuckles. “Don’t talk like that! We’re all leaving _together_!”

Thundering footsteps quiet the girl, and the movement of a large leg catches Eren’s periphery. She looks up, finding a Titan – smaller than the one who peered over the Wall, but large nonetheless – its huge, grinning mouth and pinched face making the girl shrink back before forcing herself to move faster. She ignores her mother’s implorations for her to escape with her sister and leave her behind. There was no way she would ever do that, and while it seems like all three of them are doomed, the hiss of gas reassures her as her head whips around to find its source.

“Hannes!” gasps Carla. “Wait… Don’t – you’re not seriously thinking of fighting that thing, are you? Just get the children and get out of here!”

“Gotta have more faith in me than that, Carla,” Hannes mutters, flashing a quick grin before pulling his blades out. “I’ve got to pay your husband back _somehow_ for saving my wife, and when I’m through with this thing, I’ll get all three of you out of here.”

 ** _This_** is why I wanted to join the military, Eren thinks, eyeing him and resuming to her task. For all that she ridiculed the man about his laziness, Hannes was still a soldier, and now he was going to prove everything that she had called him wrong. He was going to kill the Titan, buy them enough time to get out, and then when they escaped, they’d meet up with her fath –  
“What are you doing?” Eren feels herself shout. Hannes has paused in his action, frozen still and staring the Titan dead in the face instead of killing it like he just promised he would. She can see him tremble, falter, and before she can protest, she’s being lifted off the ground and thrown over his shoulder. Her mother lets out a relieved breath and a whisper of thanks, and then Carla becomes smaller as Hannes spins on his heel and sprints.

Hannes doesn’t say a word as he runs, though Eren’s ears are filled with her mother’s pleas to live on. She’s faintly aware of her own shouts and screams, and how she tries her best to beat Hannes in both back and chest with whatever mobility her limbs have in his grip. The Titan gets closer to the house, and everything slides into slow motion.  
She can’t bring herself to look away as the monster squats, lifting the beam she had failed to move with ease, hoisting her mother up by the woman’s midsection, and squeezing the woman until she vomits blood and her own organs. Viscera fly down on the streets around them, blood flowing down steadily like rain. Eren dimly recalls her father instructing her in medicine, telling her that the average human body holds about five liters of blood.

Carla Yeager finds her doom in the Titan’s hold, thoroughly expunged of all of her organs, and when Eren thinks that her mother’s corpse couldn’t be further desecrated, the Titan clamps its jaws down and bites her in half.

It has the gall to swallow afterward, as if its gaping cavity wasn’t able to take the entirety of her body in one single motion. Eren doesn’t know whether it’d be worse if it had just swallowed her whole. Her whole body feels like it’s tingling – intense bursts of anger and energy continuing her struggle. She can’t worm her way out of Hannes’s hold, and a part of her brain whispers that it would do no good even if she had managed to wriggle free.

As she watches her mother’s blood coat the area around, accompanied by entrails and innards, she goes rigid in Hannes’s grasp.

It’s the year 845, and Wall Maria has fallen. Eren Yeager has lost everything.


	2. coward

A sharply delivered chop to the back of Hannes’s neck is what makes the man topple down, a great distance away from the Yeager wreckage. The gate is in clear sight, clumps of refugees waiting anxiously to be let onto the boats. Eren’s hands throb from her constant struggling, attempts to free herself to aid her mother all failing up until then. But it didn’t matter. She was too late now.

She hits the ground with a grunt as Hannes tosses her, Mikasa glaring violently at the man for his rough accosting of her sister. “You bastard!” Eren shrieks, flying at the man in a flurry of limbs. Her barrage doesn’t seem to be having much effect on Hannes, but it’s still a good release. “If you’d just waited for a few more minutes, we could’ve saved our mom! But you picked us up and just ran! You ran away and made us watch our mother die!”

“You couldn’t save your mom,” Hannes whispers, lowering himself to his knees before the two girls, “because you were weak.” Eren’s hand rockets toward his face, but his own snaps up to halt her and grip her wrist before it manages to hit him. Tears blur her vision, her small body wracking with pained sobs. It’s only when she looks up from the dirt beneath her that she realizes she’s not the only one crying. Mikasa, over her shoulder sniffs quietly, her tears probably nearly spent from her parents’ death the year prior, though Eren never remembered Mikasa crying over them that often.

Hannes stares at her dead on, wetness streaming down his own cheeks. Eren flinches at the sight and attempts to reel her arm back. Hannes’s hold prevents her from doing so, and he continues to speak knowing that he’s gotten her full attention. “I couldn’t kill that Titan,” continues Hannes, “because I’m a coward.”

The fact that he admits it doesn’t make her feel better, but Eren no longer feels the need to punch him.

All three sit together in silence, entrenched in their grief and guilt before Hannes gets up steadily to his feet, rubbing his neck gently. Eren feels slightly guilty for the thwack, knowing that what Hannes did was for her own safety and that she should be grateful that he got her out of there alive. By ensuring her survival, he had given her a chance for revenge.

She mumbles an apology, to which Hannes waves off. He offers the children his hands, Eren gripping his left and Mikasa on his right.

The warmth of his hold and comfort provides little solace for what they’ve had to leave behind.

\--

The prow of the boat is teeming with people reaching out towards family who haven’t been able to board the same vehicle. The fact that Hannes pushed Eren and Mikasa forward to climb on in place of two other people doesn’t help. The family separated shoots them dirty looks as they board, and while Mikasa, worn out and fatigued from the day’s events chooses to ignore them, Eren glares petulantly back at them.

They’re children, and they’re all alone; they could have _some_ sympathy.

It’s only by luck that Eren manages to spot a head of blond hair and a straw hat towards the rear. At least some of the people she cared for got out of Shiganshina quickly. She shuffles toward them, muttering brief apologies to people she steps on and nearly doesn’t. “Armin,” Eren calls, careful not to be too loud so as not to startle some of the clearly catatonic people aboard. 

He looks up, catching her eye and offering a small grin. She watches his eyes search behind her – he’s looking for her mother, she realizes, and something twists painfully in her gut. When he catches no sight of Carla Yeager, his smile falters.

“Hey,” Armin says. There’s a neat circle of exposed deck around him and his grandfather, whom Eren bows to, and only when Eren turns does she realize that she never checked to see if Mikasa had followed her when she stumbled off to find Armin. She had, thankfully, but Eren’s brows furrow and she reaches out to catch the sleeve of Mikasa’s cardigan between her index finger and thumb.

The girl doesn’t seem to notice, her hands clasping the side of her head. She hasn’t made so much as a peep since they left the Yeager ruins, and while Eren is worried, a loud noise makes her head snap up. There’s the noise of screams, coming from both the subsequent evacuation boats that followed hers, and those who remained back near the gate – only soldiers were left.

She recognizes the distinct pounding of a Titan’s feet. “Is it… is it running?” She peers over her shoulder to look at Armin. He looked like he’d done his fair share of waiting, and Eren wonders if he’d actually seen a Titan, and if he so, whether he’d done so close-up, just like she had.

He opens his mouth to reply, but a sound resembling an explosion catches everyone’s attention. A Titan stands in front of the whole where the gate used to be. Its big, hulky frame differs greatly from the ones Eren had witnessed hovering around. It’s considerably well built, with its pectorals and abdominal area covered in what looked like plates of armor.

It’s left a gaping hole in the Wall. While Shiganshina had been pierced from the outside, it was still an outlying district. If humanity had managed to stop the Titan threat right then and there, the rest of the Wall would be primarily safe, although it was probably that people would resettle closer to Wall Rose for faster evacuation.

But this one – this aberrant, it had broken through on the second side. The Wall itself had been pierced.

Another Titan steps through the vacancy, and the armored one vanishes.

Eren’s eyes widen, and everyone on the boat is speechless.

Eren thinks she’s gone deaf for a few moments, but soon enough, panic spreads. The boats are a safe distance away from the Wall, the current on their side as they speed towards Wall Rose. The people that had been separated from their families seem louder than ever, some lunging over the fronts and backs of their respective vessels in order to check if their estranged had boarded another.

“My God,” she hears Armin say, and while Mikasa has deigned to respond even now, it’s not fear or paranoia or anxiety that makes her tremble.

It’s rage.

Seething rage.

Eren’s vision blots red, her fists clenching tightly. She releases her hold on Mikasa’s cardigan, letting both hands hang at her sides. Armin’s grandfather eyes her warily – not unkind, but worried. She’s acutely aware that tears spring up in her eyes again, though she had thought she was done crying after she had secured her escape.

Her home was gone, and her mother along with it. There was no way she’d ever be able to return home, Shiganshina lost with the rest of the wall. Nobody else on the boats would be able to. Humanity had lost. Was that because humanity was weak? Because their only possibly response was to wail and cry and beg God for forgiveness?

But Eren has not lost. She hasn’t given up, and as long as that is the case, she will never lose.  
Eren Yeager will not lose to the Titans.

Eren Yeager will lose to nobody.

“I’m going to wipe them out,” she grits out, hands slapping the banister in front of her. Her palms sting from the force, but she manages to elicit a look from Mikasa, broken out of her tattered state and back into her constant worry. Armin chooses not to say anything, instead hovering by her right shoulder while maintaining a safe distance from his grandfather. “I am going to slaughter every single Titan in this world. Until there’s nothing left.”

The girl isn’t shouting. Her words are contained, cold, calculating. She receives worried glances from her friends, but the people around her seemed to not have noticed the young lady promising her revenge on the Titans.

She doesn’t look like much of a threat either, a ten year old child, draped in dirt. Both of her pig tails are frazzled, brown hair sticking up in various places. Her clothes are more worn down than they’ve ever been, with the dust and grime that cover her aging the material further.

Eren Yeager’s puny now, but she won’t be forever.

\--

She thinks she’s done waking up screaming, but that’s wrong. Flashes of magenta and cloud her vision, and as she wakes, her limbs are flying askew. Mikasa’s soothing voice calms her, a gentle hand patting the top of her head and combing through tousled, frayed, and tangled locks just like Carla used to.

Eren dimly recalls her nightmare – her father had been screaming at her, shouting unintelligibly and pinning her down in a forest. There was no way this happened – she’d gone straight past the woods between Maria and Rose in the boat, landed and docked at the depot and crawled off with Mikasa to find shelter for the night.

But the sting in her arm is there. She lifts her sleeve up – no redness, no puckered skin to indicate a needle had gone into the flesh.

Her father’s words echo in her head, about the key, about returning, and something about understanding when she was older. She’d rather understand now, but the vision was nothing more than a nightmare and a figment of her imagination.

Grisha Yeager had not raised his voice to his daughter in years, only when he was exasperated at her antics while he attempted to alleviate the ailment of a patient and she had then gotten in the way, though she supposed that learning of Carla’s death may have driven him off the deep end. It wasn’t to say her father was unstable, but death is enough to break anyone.

But the question remained – she woke up with only Mikasa beside her. If her father had managed to retrieve them both, why were they not with him now? Where had Mikasa been when Grisha had injected whatever substance was in the needle into Eren? She doubted the girl would ever leave her side after the fall of Shiganshina, which most probably added on to the elder’s previous clinginess and overprotection.

“You all right?” Mikasa asks, her hand resting gently on Eren’s shoulder. Her tone is soft, differing from its customary bluntness. She doesn’t look convinced when Eren nods, but nonetheless leans back on her haunches, allowing Eren room to catch her breath.

The bell tolls in the distance and Mikasa stands. “Come on,” she tells her. “They’re handing out rations near the warehouse.”

Body still quivering, Eren struggles to rise to her feet. What she had seen before she awoke felt so real, and there was a slight tingle left throughout her body. But, she supposed, that could be attributed to sleeping on the cold, hard floor. She’d lived a moderate life in Shiganshina, but had pillows and blankets that she had grown accustomed to nonetheless.

It was all a dream, Eren surmised.

But if that was the case, why did her father’s key rest around her neck?

\--

The warehouse is bustling with activity – filled with tears and laughs and odd combinations of the two as people learn whether their relatives and friends lived or died. Eren needs no confirmation, but it certainly doesn’t lift the weight off of her chest. It does little to calm her nerves from the pseudo-nightmare she had earlier that day, but she relives her last conversation with her mother over and over, and it’s a cycle of hurting herself and tearing her heart open over and over and over and over, but she can’t bring herself to stop.

Their last words had been arguments, and after Carla demanded Eren obey her last wish, everything else had been directed at Hannes. She dimly recalls her mother commanding that they continue to live without her, peppered with cries of “I love you”, but she wonders if it is a hallucination she conjures up to smother the guilt of not having a proper goodbye.

“‘For once in my life’, huh?”

Mikasa looks turns to her. “Did you say something?”

Eren shakes her head, sliding slowly to the floor. She wonders how pitiful they look, two orphans alone in the corner. There are others she sees around, but many managed to rope off into groups or find distant relatives from Wall Rose. Except for a few younger children, too young to understand quite what’s happening, they’re the ones that are all alone.

Do any of them recognize them as Dr. Yeager’s daughters? Is Grisha Yeager here? Eren doubts that they’ve racked up all of the names of the deceased or missing. Her father customarily would never leave an extremely ill patient’s bedside for anything, but a family emergency must be enough to wring something from him, right? That nightmare still plagues her, and she wonders if her father has abandoned them here after he’d completed whatever experiment he had on her.

Of course not. She’s stupid to doubt him.

He’s her father, the man who raised her. Eren’s sure she’s not exactly the poster child of perfection, but Grisha had done right by her, and Grisha had done right by Mikasa, however little time he had spent as her adoptive father. He was not a terrible man by any means. He rescued people every day, and he would come rescue them too.

“Hey, guys,” Armin says, and Eren snaps out of her reverie. She had been staring into her lap for the past few minutes, staring at the redness and the blisters that formed on her hands. Both of her palms sting, strained and tired. Her fingers ache as she flexes them, but she finds it in herself to raise her arm to wave at Armin.

He approaches them, two buns in hand. The bread looks stale, and Eren hasn’t noticed she was this hungry until her stomach grumbles unhappily. “Hi,” she hears Mikasa say. She’s begun to speak more, and Eren’s all for encouraging her to continue.

“My grandfather got us these extra rations. He said they were for kids.” He holds them out to Eren and Mikasa, looking rather full himself. A tiny crumb stays in the corner of his mouth, and he wipes it away with a sleeve when he notices Eren staring at it.

“Well, he’s not exactly wrong,” Mikasa responds, nodding her thanks.

Eren smiles quickly at Armin as she takes hers, cupping it in both hands gratefully. Over his shoulder, she spots a Garrison soldier sneering at them, snorting in disgust before walking away. “What’s his problem?” Eren mutters, peeved. While Grisha Yeager had received Wall-wide acclaim for his cure of the plague, his family had never received any preferential or special treatment whatsoever, save for an “Oh, are you related to Dr. Yeager?” Nonetheless, his dismissive attitude had her peeved.

“Just ignore him,” Armin replies. “There’s a shortage. Poor man’s probably hungry.”

Eren would never have called the man with a hooked, witch-like nose and mean, beady eyes a ‘poor man’, but to each their own, she supposed.

“It’s been rough on the people in Rose,” he continues, tucking his own bun into his pocket. Eren’s never considered the angle until he spoke of it. “Conflict has sparked with the haves and the have-nots. There are so many people – that’s why there were three Walls. Each had enough to accommodate only themselves, and now… Well.”

Several scuffles have broken out nearby, between refugees, and an argument has sparked at a nearby stand between a soldier handing out food and a man demanding more. Everywhere Eren turns, there’s some sort of discontent. Not exactly the best first impression for many of the people, she supposes.

The same soldier before stands with a friend of his not too far off. As he speaks, Eren isn’t sure if he’s unaware of his own volume, or if he’s trying to pick a fight of his own. The antagonism in his tone, however, is not easily missed. “Nothing more satisfying that seeing them turn into animals. Eh. They’ve all gotta fatten up somehow, anyways, right?” This time, he purposely raises his voice. “Eat up. The Titans like a little meat in their meals.”

Eren blanches and notices that both Mikasa and Armin stiffen beside her. While other refugees have elected to ignore the obvious jeering, Eren’s far too agitated and tired to let this go. Before either of her friends can stop her, she’s already stalking towards the soldier. He continues to speak, something more about animals and calling the poor people who’ve had their homes crushed and lost just like her something akin to animals.

Eren has stopped listening, focusing solely on the fact that he believed them to be appropriate Titan feed. Her movements belie her anger, as she slips unnoticed between other lines of soldiers seemingly holding back people from reaching the supply held behind the stalls.  
She stops directly in front of the offending soldier, and while his friend looks like he wants to ask her something, probably what she wants, the man doesn’t stop speaking. He draws attention from several disgruntled refugees who glare in his direction, but none have dared to approach like Eren has.

None have also decided to stop her when they see her kick him in the shin really, really hard.

The soldier gasps and shouts in rage, cursing and looking at his surroundings before zeroing in on the girl before him. “What the fuck was that for, bitch?” he shouts, fist swinging and connecting with the girl’s face before she can manage to dodge.

She falls to a heap on the floor, leaning on her left arm before being knocked flat by the boot of his friend. “Shut your gob!” she thunders, managing to prop herself up on her other arm. Her cheek throbs and her back burns, but if he’s going to run his mouth around all of these people, she will as well. “You don’t know what it’s like! Have you ever seen a Titan? Seen what they can do? You don’t know jack shit!”

Eren curses herself internally for crying again, but the move may be able to draw sympathy from other refugees who would either help her or at least stop the man. Maybe even swarm and beat him, if she could sell it.

No dice.

He moves forward again, grumbling. Eren manages to scoot back a few inches and draw her hands up to protect her face, but Armin’s interjection manages to save her a further beating.

“She’s sorry,” Armin gasps, stepping in front of her. His hands are lifted in front of him defensively, though one might mistake the gesture for imploring. Had his arms been pulled back more, he might’ve looked like he was ready to push the soldier, but the distance between him and his hands leave his posture placating rather than threatening. “She’s just really hungry. Y’know, she’s just a kid – can’t help but speak our minds, and, well… The fact that she’s a bit famished doesn’t help.”

Mikasa shuffles over to help Eren up, expressionless while Armin implores the soldier for mercy. He stalks off. Eren hasn’t been forgiven – she can tell by the rigidity of his movement and the length of his stride that he’s attempting to be intimidating by making himself appear larger and taller. “Tell your friend a little gratitude goes a long way,” he growls. “We’re all fucking hungry.”

As if she would ever be grateful to a coward like him.

Never.

\--

Things are still high strung as Armin’s grandfather checks out her bruises and decides that she’s fine, only a little roughed up, though she probably could’ve diagnosed that herself. It was still better to have an adult make sure that she was okay, though, she supposes. Upon ascertaining that she was going to be all right, the old man scuffles off to scrounge up connections that may provide them suitable shelter inside the district.

“I can’t do this,” Eren seethes, sitting on the top of a low wall and peering down at her lap. The brief altercation with the soldier had made her skirt even dirtier, and her fall had even managed to tear the cloth near the hem. “I have to go back to Wall Maria. To make the Titans pay.”

Armin tries to be reassuring as he beams, his expression clearly forced. “That’s just your tummy there. You’re hungry – gotta eat up to conserve that strength, Eren. You can’t be serious.”

Her neck almost cracks as she flings her head up to glare at him. “Yes, I am! There’s no way I can live like this – off of the charity of cowards. These people, all they do is hide behind their Wall and complain about the refugees. They haven’t seen the Titans. They don’t know what it’s like to scramble for your life.” She pushes herself off of her perch, whipping the bread out of her pocket and flinging it at Armin, who struggles to catch the loaf. “I’m not gonna be some charity case.”

“Eren,” Armin says, and he almost sounds like he’s whining, “you can’t starve yourself like this. Just eat – you’ve got to.”

“I’m sick of hearing you tell me what I can’t and have to do!” Eren snaps, and Armin flinches slightly. They’ve never really argued – bantered, sure, but that was all in fun. Their different ideals were what brought them together and they’d never disagreed on anything, minus roughhousing that was just commonly attributed to who Eren was. “When are you going to be sick of this? Of being handed down everything, never being able to call what you have rightfully yours? You know what you’ve got to do? You’ve got to stand on your own two feet!”

She doesn’t expect him to retaliate, Armin being rather gentle in nature as opposed to Eren’s ‘fight everything out’ approach, but when he does, his words hurt and a flash of betrayal makes her eyes sting. “To do what? To start running straight into a Titan’s stomach? I know we used to talk about going beyond the Walls, to reclaim the world outside and start anew, but the fact is, I have no idea what the Titans are capable of, just like that soldier!”

“So you’re just going to give up? Just lie down and let them beat you until you’re nothing but a mindless puppet? You’re just going to keep taking and taking as long as they’ll give things to you, spend the rest of your life as a leech?”

“What choice do we have?”

“We can stand, and we can fight! If you wanna scrape by with scraps and shit like this, like some lowly street urchin, then that’s fine by me! I’ll just – ”

A pale hand shoots out of her periphery, striking her dead on the cheek. Eren finds herself once more splayed on the ground, and she realizes that whoever assaulted her had managed to hit the same cheek that the soldier had when it throbs painfully. Mikasa stands poised, her fist pushed out as she glares at her sister.

Armin’s eyes have widened, partially in shock from the hit, and from Eren’s words, she realizes, as he turns to peer down at her. She had actually spoken about leaving him behind. It was unforgivable. But she would push those thoughts aside for now. They were not important.

“What the fuck, Mikasa?” she wails. She’s sure she sounds like a petulant child now, but Eren’s angry, and she’s hungry, and she’s in pain, and all she can think about is how she’s in the right and her friends are all traitors to the beliefs they’ve held and professed for as long as they can remember.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” the other girl fumes. “Look around. Look in a mirror. Everyone here is a leech. Everyone here has stooped down to the level of filthy street urchins. We’re not in a position to be making demands, let alone rejecting help. Look at this. We can’t even get food on our own. I don’t give a damn about pride – pride has never ensured that we live.” She steps closer, taking Eren’s bread from Armin. “We do what we have to in order to survive.”

Eren tries not to shrink back as Mikasa approaches, her instincts begging her to flee from further abuse. Mikasa won’t do her any lasting harm, though – she knows. The Asian girl kneels in front of her, grabbing her chin and forcing her mouth open. Any protest Eren was about to spew out is cut off by the bread being crammed down her throat. It’s dry and stale, hardly appealing, and the lack of saliva in her mouth doesn’t make it easy for her to swallow.

“In order to survive,” Mikasa continues, jerking the bread further to emphasize her point, “you need to eat. So eat.”

Tears well in Eren’s eyes – partially from the resistance her mouth and body were putting towards the bread and from the frustration she felt, at her, at her friends, at the world. She tears the bun from Mikasa’s gasp, coughing loudly as she tears the loaf into small pieces, and turning away so as to avoid having Mikasa’s strong grip shoving the food down her throat.

Her sister’s right, of course. She needs to build her strength somehow, and while Eren’s sure she could get a job around the district performing errands and labor for certain people, it’d be so much easier to take what she can get for free for now, until she has the ability to pick and choose.

She’d read once in a book of Armin’s that “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” She wasn’t sure what Rome was, but she knew that she’d take as long as she needed to build herself up.

\--

A year passes in the blink of an eye, and while many of the refugees managed to disperse across the Walls and find a new home with relatives and friends, several were still stuck in Jinae. While Armin’s grandfather had attempted to contact old friends living in Wall Rose, he had been denied and left to remain in a stranger district with his three charges.

Eren and Mikasa had tried their best to avoid being burdens on the older man, taking odd jobs throughout the district and briefly working as understudies to a baker and his freckled son. Their job had lasted for a few months, but it hadn’t been lucrative, and while Eren had formed a small companionship with the boy, the Yeager children had parted ways with the baker to find a better job.

It’s Eren’s thirteenth week as a courier when she returns home to an empty house and a silent and downcast Armin. Mikasa is due to arrive in a few hours, having offered to bring the collected revenue to their bosses for the day.

“What’s wrong?” Eren asks after a brief pause. While a quiet house was not something she was unused to, given that all four of the two-roomed establishment were all relatively withdrawn, she had been expecting to brew a stew for the old man. Speaking of Armin’s grandfather, the old man was nowhere to be seen, despite having been under the weather for the past week.

His old straw hat lies dejectedly on the floor. Armin doesn’t say a word, and for a moment, Eren thinks he’s fallen asleep sitting up. When she moves forward to place a hand on his shoulder, he starts, making her jump.

“They declared a mission today,” he tells her. His voice trembles, cracking in some places. He’s due to hit puberty in a few years, but the noise that comes out of his mouth is anything but funny. “A military campaign to reclaim Wall Maria.”

Huh. She’d heard word about such an attempt for a while during her job, making small talk with clients as they scrounged up the money to pay her. She hadn’t really been paying attention, instead focused on keeping them from avoiding the fee. But many of the people who had seen her around knew she was from Wall Maria, and small talk usually gravitated towards what was going to happen to humanity’s abandoned territory.

“Okay,” Eren says slowly. Armin has more to say - it’s obvious in the way that he clenches his fist and gulps to prepare himself, but she won’t force him to spew out anything he doesn’t want to.

He inhales deeply, and the creak of a door lets them both know that Mikasa has come home. “It was all a draft,” he continues, and the faintest of sniffling can be heard. “Draft for the refugees especially. They were first priority - young, old. Unless they had obtained Jinae citizenship, they were forced to go. Their health status didn’t matter.”

“No,” Eren hears Mikasa whisper. The sisters share a look, and seat themselves beside Armin at their small, wooden dining table.

A bag of groceries that Mikasa had purchased earlier that day sat on the table, gone forgotten in their shared grief. Old Man Arlert was weak - painfully so. He struggled to walk around during the day, bones creaking and joints aching. Mikasa and Eren hadn’t minded picking up more work than usual to assist him, and Eren’s time as a pseudo-nurse had given her a few skills as a physician.

She was still young, though, and couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was ailing the old man. Perhaps her father would be able to, but over twelve months have passed without a sign of Grisha Yeager. Eren starts to think that maybe he had turned back when Shiganshina fell, and had met his end by Titans as well. It was a terrible thought, but at least it gave him an excuse for leaving them behind.

Eren opens her mouth, unsure of what to say. Silence hangs between the three children for a moment, before Mikasa excuses herself to prepare dinner. Eren’s left alone with Armin, then. She stoops to pick up the straw hat and places it on Armin’s head. “He’d want you to wear it with pride,” she murmurs, then offers him a smile. He struggles to reciprocate, but a pat on his shoulder assures him he doesn’t have to. “Besides, he’s a strong dude. If the Scouts are going with, and I heard they are, then he’ll be fine.”

Armin’s furrowed brows signify disbelief, but an elbow playfully jabbed at his ribs makes him snort despite the wetness in his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Eren insists. “Captain Levi’s gonna be out there - he’s the best of the best, and he’s gonna save everyone.”

She’s long past that sort of naivety, more befitting of the small children that still hang around what used to be the old refugee depot, who pester her with questions about her home and watching the Scouts returning from their expeditions whenever she has something to deliver to the managers. But some sort of lightheartedness must exist in the household.

The campaign’s going to be long, and she’s not going to come home to morose depression every single day. Armin doesn’t say anything in response, head bowed and shoulders rigid as he places all of his weight on his arms. Eren’s smile begins to slip at his unresponsiveness, but Mikasa then calls for dinner, and Armin manages to give her a reassuring grin before marching off to help her separate portions.

 _He’s not going to be okay_ , she realizes. _He’s the sort to overthink. What if Grandfather gets hurt and can’t work? What if Grandfather gets eaten? What if Grandfather goes missing and they have nothing to return to the three small children who waited patiently for him?_

She purses her lips, pushing the thoughts out of her mind as she shuffles to set the table, almost accidentally putting a fourth set of utensils down. She catches herself before Armin can see her, but there’s still a sort of tension about them as they eat in silence.

Eren wonders if Armin notices the shifty glances the Yeagers share with each other over his head throughout their meal, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

\--

The baker sends her off with a set of pineapple buns for the three kids before he closes up shop for the evening and Eren is left thinking that today has been a good day. She’s gotten little to no problem finding her customers - even the shady man in the dark alley, but she’s learned not to ask questions - and has filled up her monthly quota, with everything she’s earning now as extra for her own pocket.

She’s nearly twelve, as well, meaning she’s ripe for the age of enlistment. Eren’s spoken to Mikasa and Armin about it, with the former at first adamantly against it before declaring that she would follow if Eren decided to ignore her warnings (which she had - a long, long time ago) and the latter denying, saying that he was content with his job as an accounting clerk for now.

There’s a slight bounce in her step as she waves a goodbye to her former employer and his son, and she even feels the urge to clean the house when she arrives home before everyone else. It’s a nice day - sunny, breezy, birds chirping happily in the trees near her window. Everything seems like it’s from a fairytale, but she’s not about to complain. The hardships they have endured for the past year and a half aren’t worth contemplating for the moment.

She’s half-way through her sleeping quarters - a small, deflated couch in the corner of their living room/dining room/kitchen - when she hears a knock on the door. Eren straightens the sleeves of her blouse, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt as she walks up to the door, opening it before whoever is on the other side has to knock again to catch her attention.

The man standing before her is the blond man who looked at her a year and a half ago. She recognizes him as the current Scouting Regiment Commander - Erwin Smith. Shadis resigned soon after Shiganshina and the failed expedition, though she hadn’t caught word of where he retired to, and if he was still in the military.

Eren shakes her head quickly to rid herself of whatever dazed look she was sure she had plastered on her face, one of her heroes quite obviously standing at her doorstep. “C-Can I help you?” she stammers. She feels her cheeks flame at the misstep, and she reaches behind her to tug at the hem of her shirt as she peers up at him. The man towers over her, and in his hands is a green, tattered cloak. One familiar to the Scouting Regiment, she realizes, as a brief hint of white and blue stand out from the side of the cloth that is facing him.

“Is this the residence of…” he pauses to look down at a list he kept in his pocket, a worn paper that looks like it’s been crumpled several times. “...Armin Arlert?”

She nods, and her brows shoot up. Grey eyes dart from the cloak back up the man, surprise and dismay marring what had been a previously content young lady. Erwin peers down at her, thick brows pinched together in sympathy. “Yes…,” responds she, taking a moment to fully register his words. “He’s not here right now, though. Um, can I take a message?”

“Actually,” Smith begins, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looks just as uncomfortable as she feels, and it takes her a bit to realize this is his first expedition since the fall of Wall Maria, and his first as the new Commander of the Regiment. “This is something I’d rather speak to him about personally. Do you know if he’ll be home soon?”

“Yes, he should be here in about… twenty minutes? Fifteen, if he’s let go early.”

“May I come in?”

She hesitates, a reaction remnant from the ‘stranger-danger’ teachings of her upbringing. He’s a soldier, she scolds herself. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt you. He’s just here to talk. And… She doesn’t want to think about it. “Yes, of course.” Eren steps aside, letting the much larger man in. She closes the door softly and offers to make some tea.

Armin arrives home just as promised, Mikasa in tow, and not a moment too soon. Eren was worried that she had annoyed Smith beyond belief with her so-called ‘small talk’, which was rather something like gushing over the Scouting Regiment and its prowess to a clearly fidgety and weary soldier whose responses were tense and short. He pauses in the doorway when he sees the sight lain out before him - Eren Yeager, in all her embarrassing hero-worshipping glory, and Erwin Smith, restless and fatigued, sitting at their dining table and conversing over tea.

“Um, Commander Smith,” Eren addresses, clearing her throat, “this is Armin Arlert. And with him is my sister, Mikasa Ackerman.”

Smith rises from the table, his height making the children have to crane their heads a bit to look him in the eye. He holds out a calloused hand for Armin to shake, and Eren almost excuses herself and Mikasa before Smith invites them all to sit back down.

“It is to my understanding that you three were the children that Mr. Arlert was taking care of before he was drafted, yes?” he says. It’s clear that he already knows the answer, blue eyes calculatingly sweeping over the children before him, but they nod anyway. He clears his throat, lifting both hands from out of his lap to rest on the table in front of him, fingers folded over each other. “Is there no one else you can contact? A relative, perhaps, to help pick up where he left off?”

A shared glance flits between the three before they shake their heads slowly.

Smith exhales sharply through his nose, and he pulls the Scout cloak he’d kept in his lap and lays it on the table. “As you… may have heard… The campaign to retake Wall Maria, which lasted two months, was a failure. Many of the 250,000 soldiers that participated were killed in action.” He pauses, ascertaining the children’s reaction. 

Eren glances to her right at her friends - Mikasa is stony, rigid whereas Armin is pliant and bent. The former lacks any sort of expression on her face, but Eren can tell she’s already beginning to piece things together. She had, the moment Smith had appeared in front of her holding a tattered green cloak and asking for Armin Arlert, but had attempted to feign ignorance in order to be spared an awkward giving of condolences. Armin’s always been cleverer than the two of them, though, and she can tell he’d known from the beginning about the news Smith was here to deliver to them.

“I am sorry to inform you that your grandfather and caretaker,” Smith wearies, “is dead. He was killed in action on the forty-seventh day of the expedition, and he fought bravely for as long as he could. You have my deepest condolences.”

The entire residence is quiet for a few agonizing moments, before soft whimpers can be heard from Armin. Eren feels herself tear up, and her hands reach up quickly to wipe and wetness from her eyes as she fixes Smith with a stare and thanks him for his condolences. Mikasa lays a hand on Armin’s back, leaning into him comfortingly while Eren rises to shake Erwin’s hand. Judging by the length of his list and the spot he had stopped at while finding Armin’s name, he had many, many more families to visit. “Thank you,” she whispers, and leads him to the door. His footsteps are heavy and padded as he moves, nodding his goodbye as he steps over the threshold.

It’s only when Eren turns around that she crumbles, and that night, the three of them stay curled up on Eren’s little sofa-bed with only each other’s company to console themselves, draped by the green cloak that Erwin Smith left behind. For all that they’ve lost, and all that they’ve endured, they go to bed that night knowing that they’ll always have each other.

They try to ignore the blood stains dotting the hem when they wake up the next morning.


	3. waits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only half as long as everything else orz, but seeing as it's not exactly plot-centric material, my brain is allowing it just this once. Think of ch.3 as sort of a filler, because I like to deal with arcs in threes. i.e., this is the last chapter of the 'fall of shiganshina arc'.

The December following Old Man Arlert’s death is possibly one of the coldest that Eren’s ever experienced. Shiganshina is a southern district, as such facing less strenuous winters than Wall Maria’s northernmost district, but nonetheless, she has seen snow and played in it, so much so she very nearly got frostbite on her fingers one year. She’s not sure what has happened the winter of 846, if it’s her subconscious that makes it feel chillier than it is, but if that’s the case, she’d better snap out of it before she dies of hypothermia.

It gets progressively worse as she stands on the docks of Jinae, her own scarf, mirroring her sister’s crimson but rather in the shade of emerald, tucked up closely around her neck and covering her mouth and nose. She rubs her fingers together, hoping to conserve heat among them, but as she waits for the next shipment of letters from Trost, Eren starts to think that the river’s frozen completely and she’ll be stuck waiting for another month.

Her living depends on this - she hasn’t got the time to be patient for the boat. She’ll go out herself to find the damn thing, but for now, as soft fluff falls around her, sprinkling her steadily growing hair, she’ll have to stand and wait.

“I’m really sorry,” the man beside her tells her. “The boats are never usually this late, but… if you’d like to go home now, be with your family… I suppose that I can contact you when the boat arrives.”

Eren shakes her head, offering the man a small smile. It’s definitely not genuine - she’s pissed beyond all hell, but her bosses won’t be happy if she returns with empty pockets. The month has been slow enough, and there aren’t enough workers to spare after the campaign to retake Wall Maria. She’s got to get her paycheck somehow, and a lack of determination (that’s what she’s calling it; others would deem staying out this late at night near the river and facing chilling breezes stupid) is not going to get her anywhere.

“It’s fine,” she tells the shipyard attendant. The sun has set hours ago, and she’s sure that Mikasa and Armin are already beginning dinner. Her sister’s lucky - she was given the shipment that came in a few days ago. She must’ve been done ages ago.

The man shuffles up to her, and she wonders when he had left to retrieve a steaming cup from his office. “Please, miss,” insists the man, “take this and go home. I sincerely doubt anything will arrive until the sun helps however it can to melt the ice. It would be best if you accompanied your family this night. Celebrate this Yuletide with those closest to you.”

Her eyes widen, flitting between the steamy (is that hot chocolate? It certainly smells like it) cup in his hands and his earnest eyes, which peer down at her. She takes the cup reluctantly, bringing it to her lips and holding back a sigh when the warmth reaches her face. “I hadn’t even realized it was Yuletide Day,” Eren murmurs, and nods at him. “Thank you, sir. If you insist, then I shall take my leave.” She grabs her bags, dipping her head in thanks as the man persists that she keeps the cup for the day and return it tomorrow. “A happy Yuletide to you, sir!” she calls as she departs.

He doesn’t see her happy grin disappear the moment he’s out of eyeshot.

Eren has never liked Yuletide Day as much as she had Yuletide Eve. The latter is when you open presents, the former is when you get hammered over the head with snow and laziness, and nothing ever really happens because people expect you to lay about at home spending the day with your family, when you had already done so the day before and also probably had a very dysfunctional family dinner as well.

Of course, she’d never admit this to anyone else but Mikasa and Armin. They’d agreed long before not to celebrate this Yuletide, half in mourning for Armin’s grandfather and half in acknowledgement at their combined indifference for the holiday. The last time Eren’s actually cared about the day is when she heard that Captain Levi’s birthday was on Yuletide Day.

She reaches the house mere minutes before midnight, and finds that Mikasa has left a pot of porridge on the stove for Eren to heat at her own discretion. At the significant lack of noise in the house, whether it is the turning of pages through paper-thin walls or Mikasa’s incessant need to rearrange her room at ungodly hours, she surmises that her two housemates have fallen asleep.

Good. They’ve been overworking themselves these past few weeks, Armin needing to calculate budgets and funds for his employers before Yuletide week, and Mikasa having to deliver letters, packages, and gifts all throughout the district. She and Eren are far from being civil servants, not affiliated with the governmental postal service, but they’ve been worked to the bone nonetheless in abysmal temperatures.

Eren sits alone in the kitchen, having her Yuletide dinner minutes after Yuletide Day has passed, all alone.

\--

The cold of January is arguably worse than the cold of December, freezing temperatures dropping swiftly in its earliest days and persisting until the last week. Luckily for Eren, that’s what she’s enduring right now. There’s a bounce in her step as she approaches the Scouts’ Jinae base. She knows that they customarily pass through Trost’s main gates most often, making her envy her fellow south-side neighbor more often than not, but she’s caught wind of a few high ranking officials having made an errand to Jinae, which was a small town in the northeastern quarter of Trost.

She doubts the packages she’s sent to deliver that day are meant for them, seeing as most officials used less insidious companies and more official enterprises to communicate, but the thought of holding Scouting Regiment property still makes her heart flutter in anticipation.

There’s still only two months until she turns twelve, finally old enough for enlistment. She’s relatively certain that Mikasa will follow her, the older girl adamantly refusing to consider any attempts at dissuading her from pursuing a military career simply for Eren’s sake. At least leaving to join the Scouts won’t be lonely. She’s never been particularly good with making friends. Now, she’ll have joined with one already dedicated to staying by her side.

It’s Armin that Eren’s unsure about it. The clever boy has proved himself before to be dedicated to finding out exactly what dwelled beyond the Walls, but his recent jaded attitude makes his perseverance dubious at best. Not that she minds. Eren’s not trying to be mean or unfair to Armin, but the boy has never been a physical person, and being a soldier meant being strong and capable. He’d never so much as kicked a ball around in years, and even then, he was never good at aiming nor was he at putting enough force to make the ball move a significant distance, regardless of the targeted range.

As she pushes open the door, she nods a greeting to the secretary while holding up her package. A single glance and jerked thumb later, Eren finds herself wandering the halls of the base, peering through the glass panes of the office doors, and almost getting caught before winding her way to the mail room. It’s not her first time here, but it never hurt to explore. Several times.

Exiting the room after having deposited all that she was supposed to, she finds herself ramming into hard flesh as soon as she leaves the room, gasping in surprise and then apologizing profusely. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so sorry,” Eren says, bowing swiftly.

“It’s fine.”

The deep voice is familiar, and Eren lifts her gaze to meet Erwin Smith’s eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks her, noting her extended silence. A thick brow arches, and she shakes her head to clear them of her thoughts.

“Yes, sir! I’m fine!” It comes out a lot more forceful than intended, and while she is really, honestly completely okay, aside from a slight sting in her noggin ( _Abs of steel_ , she thinks. _Of steel_.), his doubt is conveyed in a single dip of his head.

“I didn’t know you were a courier, Miss…”

“Yeager,” she supplies, clasping her hands behind her back. He gestures for her to walk with him, and she does, heart pounding all the same. She’s seen Erwin a couple of times since he came to inform them of Old Man Arlert’s death, but she’d never gotten the chance to speak with him. At least, not since then.

“Miss Yeager,” Erwin repeats. “It was silly of me, though, to forget that you worked. Are things well for you and your companions?”

His tone of voice is stiff, and he’s merely making small talk for the sake of not letting silence hang between them. If he had been afraid of that, he should have just marched straight off without her. Not that she would have wanted that. It wasn’t every day that one of your heroes marched you to the door of his temporary office building. Eren wasn’t sycophantic, but her hero worship had little to no bounds, and she can’t keep her eyes off of him as they walk.

“It’s all right,” she says, humming in thought before she replies. “The winter was hard to deal with because of the weather - our jobs are pretty weather-reliant, except for Armin - but I think, now that the snow and ice are starting to melt, things are going to get booming after a bit.” She pauses, giving him a glance through her periphery as she attempts to act coy. “But it’s not like I’ll be working for the Reeves’ Company in a while, anyway.”

“Oh? And why is that?” She’s surprised by his ability to sound somewhat interested. As if he isn’t looking down at his polished boots and shifting the papers under his arm impatiently.

She interweaves her fingers, which remain behind her back, further, a lilt to her gait. “I’m enlisting. So are Mikasa, and possibly Armin.”

“Is that so?” Now she’s got his attention. “And when exactly are you going to do that?”

“As soon as I turn twelve, sir. Two months from today - the 30th of March.” Eren smiles brightly, giving a brief flash of teeth as she tilts her head to look up at him. “I hope to join the Scouts as soon as I’m able.”

“Ah,” Erwin says. His expression flickers, the emotion unreadable and passing too quickly for Eren to decipher it. A small grin then appears on his face, and he lowers his head. They’ve reached the door by now, and as he pulls it open for her, he tells her, “I wish you good luck with that. I’m sure you’ll make a fine cadet.”

She pretends not to notice his smile drop immediately after her foot passes the threshold, mood later soured by his lack of a genuinely positive reaction.

\--

February, in turn, has always been a busy month. Not that Eren’s complaining, of course, because it means more coin for her coffers. But there’s always been a sort of lovey-dovey-ness in the air that she really just can’t stand. She’d tried saying something about it to one of the couriers whose route was close by, but they’d just snorted and said that if she tried snogging, then she wouldn’t be so disinclined toward it. Eren promptly flipped them off and walked away.

It’s the dreaded Paramour’s Day that makes her the most annoyed. All these roses and giant packages she’s got to cart around Jinae, however small a town it may be. Eren’s got nothing against romanticism - she quite enjoys it - but it’s not particularly her favorite when she has to drag people’s gifts around. It’s just that she’s got no one to truly celebrate it with. Never has. Family is all good, but with only two people left to call that, she didn’t exactly have many opportunities to conjure up surprises like the ones she had placed right beside her as she leans over a table, cradling her tea in her hands.

“Wouldn’t it be better to bring it yourself? It shows that you care more,” Eren asks. It’s her third break (shh, don’t tell her boss) and she’s still not half-way done with the pile. How had these people managed to avoid being jaded and stiff, and where could Eren find some lessons? “I mean, you’re just going to let a bunch of little kids get their hands all over your significant other’s chocolate? Uh, not that you nor I are little kids. Y’know.”

Mikasa hums, but doesn’t answer.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this, though, huh?” It’s true. The past few months have been spent either not seeing each other at all or only seeing each other with Armin at their side. The sisters haven’t exactly had time to themselves like this. If Eren were to hazard a guess, the last time she and Mikasa had ever experienced any ‘sisterly bonding time’ was on the day Wall Maria fell. Not to say they didn’t have a good rapport, of course.

None of the three were inseparable, so to speak, but they’d shared a bond stronger than anything else in the world, it seemed. Eren was grateful, truly to have the both of them by her side for every day, to remind her that there was something living to fight for, and while the memory of Carla Yeager had been more than enough, she was glad to know that at the end of the day, when the swords were sheathed and the blood began to evaporate, that there were people to come home to. People to care for. Her two best friends in the whole wide world.

“Mm.” Mikasa gives her a sidelong glance, brushing dark strands of hair behind her ear. There’s a serene breeze that sways around them, light February weather enhanced by the overt affection lingering in the air completely negating the hellish winter that came before it.

She loves it in the south. It’s not too hot when summer rolls around, though that never stopped her from playing in the river, but when it’s cold, it’s the appropriate amount of chill to where cuddling was strongly recommended and a favorable activity. Jinae was particularly well mannered, as opposed to the ever wavering Shiganshina, where weather was never consistent and meteorologists could only guess as to what would happen for the next hour, let alone the weeks, months, and years.

 _It’s nice_ , Eren thinks. _It wouldn’t be too bad to live like this forever._

Her sister nudges her with her shoulder, doing what Eren can only assume Mikasa perceives as a gently push while instead nearly toppling the girl over. Eren quickly rights herself so as to cover her lapse up, but a furrowed brow signifies she’s been caught. “You know, if you keep doing that, there’s going to be a crease right here.” Her finger comes to poke at the space between Mikasa’s brows, and the other girl snorts. “I’m serious. That’s what happened to Mar’s mom. C’mon, you remember. Whenever the Shetland comes over, he always gets Mar into trouble. And then you can see the vein pop out in her forehead, and a huge line just goes from her widow’s peak all the way down to her nose.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m a _truthsayer_.”

“I think there’s a lot more to being a truthsayer than noticing wrinkles in poor old mothers’ faces, Eren.”

“Wait, that’s a word?”

Mikasa laughs and Eren stills into silence. It’s one of the first times she’s heard a genuine giggle come from her sister’s lips since the fall of Shiganshina. Eren swiftly grins to mask her silence, and knocks her forehead against her sister’s gently.

The action elicits a similar reaction. Eren wishes Armin could be there to see it. Their entire lives since Maria fell up until then were forced grins and choked out laughs. Hardly anything was genuine, but the fact that Mikasa Ackerman laughed again was something so grand that Eren had half a mind to put it in the newspaper.

Armin was not a third wheel. He was never just a single attachment tacked onto two girls, whom he was always teased about for not having any male friends as close as the Yeagers. He was a brother to them both, a kind, intelligent, and _important_ boy that was a lot cleverer and conniving than he seemed, with a barbed tongue and a sharp wit, but he was a brother nonetheless. But he was there so much that it seemed like sisterhood had disappeared completely. The Shiganshina Triumvirate had taken precedence over everything - understandable, as Armin needn’t deal with grief alone, and when he had two of his closest friends by him, there was no absolutely no excuse for them to let him settle things by himself. Eren would never forgive herself if she did.

But, still, Eren wished that there was a time that she could just speak to Mikasa alone. There hadn’t been a lot of that, both working girls, and although they worked under the same employer, their routes had been on the opposite sides of town. No opportunity to reconnect, to bond like they used to.

It had been so long, both of them had forgotten what it was like to be just sisters. Just two girls side by side, family, their own brand of water thicker than their blood. A year was more than enough for Eren to officially brand her as family. More than enough for Eren to completely forget that she had met Mikasa under terrible circumstances, to forget that Mikasa hadn’t been there for every day of her life, making sure that she never got into fights neither could win.

Mikasa stands, brushing off her skirt and slinging her satchel over her shoulder. “I’ll go with you to deliver the rest, if you want.”

Eren rises as well, scratching at her ankle with her other foot, and she throws the giant back of gifts over her shoulder. It clunks heavily, and she winces as she hears something crinkle, but nods and jerks her thumb nonetheless. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

The two make their way through Jinae, delivering all assortments of flowers, teddy bears, chocolate, and letters, and it’s almost second nature as their fingers slip through each other as they walk side by side.

\--

The days trickle down from double digits to single digits much faster than all three had expected. Mikasa had already passed the threshold, and Armin was allowed to enlist so long as the date had passed while he was in his first year of training, courtesy of his gender.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

0.

Eren Yeager is now twelve years old.

She can enlist in the military now.

And she's definitely going to.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [ymzaki](natxlie.co.vu) and I will be using the tag "fic: gravitas" to post updates about the fic.


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